Among the Breaks
by keyarel
Summary: Not all love is given the chance to grow; some of it might be tended to for a little while before it was left abandoned, and some wilted even when they were taken good care of. Unfortunately for them, theirs was the latter, and even if it's a sad fact, what they had among the breaks is a hopeless love. They learn to accept it after some time.
1. Strange Looks and Pauses

IT'S CHILLY AT TEN O'CLOCK in the evening, I notice as the wind blows against my face, causing me to shiver slightly at the coldness. I remember it being warmer though. Has the season changed already? No, wait. Maybe it's always been this cold; I don't know, since I've never went out of the apartment much in the evening.

I put both my hands into my pockets, trying to find warmth from the rather thin clothing I'm wearing. I'm jittery and uncomfortable, rocking back and forth on my heels. I stop after a few times, already tired from doing so. I just want to go back inside; I truly do, but. . .

"What do you want to talk about?" I say as I cast a glance at the man beside me. The man, Antonio, sighs but he stays quiet.

Normally, I would be impatient and demand for him to hurry up already. But for tonight, I have the patience. I can wait for what he has to say. To be honest, I don't know what's in his head and dragged me out here if we could just talk about it inside. Maybe for a change of scenery or something, I guess. My hand suddenly twitches, and I purse my lips in embarrassment even if Antonio didn't pay the slightest attention to it. The silence that had enveloped us stretched on for a few or more minutes, and it's deafening. I don't think I've heard silence quite this loud; it's unpleasant, and I don't like it one bit.

I shiver as the wind blows again, cursing at myself for not wearing warmer clothes.

"Sorry," Antonio suddenly says, which disrupted the silence that had formed between us. "I just remembered that you don't like the cold much."

Warmth engulfs my neck, and I look at him in surprise. He just replies: "Don't worry. I'm fine without a scarf, Lovi."

"Okay."

He smiles at me before looking away. I did too. It's silent again, and I sigh in frustration. I don't like it when he's not talking at all. Sure, I yell at him to shut his mouth but without his usual chatter, it's not the same. It's making me nervous, though I don't know why. I'm probably just not used to it, I think. I look up at the sky and was disappointed when there's not much stars showing in the sky. The moon isn't even out to somehow lighten up the street. Damn it, just when I'm outside at night for once.

"I shouldn't have dragged you out here, yeah?" he says.

"Yeah, I don't know what the hell you've been thinking and decided to drag me out here, Toni."

"I'm. . . " Antonio begins, but I see him shaking his head in the corner of my eye.

"Spill it," I blurt out. "What do you want to talk about?"

It's so brave of me to say that. No, it's not bravery; I don't think it is at all. It's forcing him to talk when he's not ready yet, and it's just me saying things before I could even think about it. I shouldn't have done that. I might've scared him somehow. I shut up and look at the street in front of us, pursing my lips.

"Do you think there's a reason why my past relationships never worked out?" he finally asks, looking at me. I face him, and I notice the strange look on his face. Has it always been there? "Like, it just doesn't feel right. Yeah, I'm happy with them but there's still something missing. I've always said that I loved them, don't I? Maybe I just thought it was love. I don't think. . ."

I wait for him to finish what he's about to say.

"I don't think it was love, Lovino. I mean, romantic love. I've only realized it recently."

I'm speechless. I couldn't form words inside my head, and I don't think I'm in my right mind to say something. I expect him to say more, pausing as I gaze upon his face that was illuminated by the streetlights. To tell the truth, I don't think I've looked at his face for longer than three seconds, and although I am aware that he's attractive, I'm still quite surprised when I saw his face. Damn, he's so gorgeous. I peel my eyes off of him, inhaling deeply to compose myself and my thoughts.

"Why're you telling me this suddenly?" I ask, adjusting the scarf around my neck. "Why are we talking about this?" There is a pause between us, and we watch as a silhouette of a stranger walk on the other side of the street until their figure disappeared when they round a corner. My gaze lingers at the corner for a brief moment before I focus it on the cemented ground. It seems like pauses are now frequent in this conversation however, I don't think I mind it any longer than I did before.

"It's because you're my best friend."

I wouldn't say that I'm his best friend exactly. I've always thought that we're just roommates that became friends throughout three years, and I don't think I've ever confided in him before. Maybe once or twice, but I don't suppose that they were about big stuff. To be frank, I'm honestly surprised when he told me that. I don't know why he even told me those things, to me of all people. Although, even in shock, I somewhat understood what he's been saying.

Throughout three years, I was there when he would gush about his girlfriend or boyfriend. I remember him being so happy with them, trying his best to make them happy too. But just like he said, they never work out. They ended up being unhappy, breaking up because that's what they need. They break up because they love each other, but not in the way they both expected it to be. Now that Antonio has learned things, I'm pretty sure he'd be able to know if he's truly in love this time.

"You're in love." I state bluntly, peeking at him. " . . .aren't you?"

He vaguely nods, and we fell silent again. Then I say, "How do you know it's real this time?"

He just shrugs. "I still wonder about it sometimes, actually. Maybe it's the warmth. Maybe it's the feeling of being secure. Maybe it's because I can hear it in the silence. Maybe it's because I can see it even with the lights out. I don't know, Lovino, but one thing's for sure: it's not about the butterflies in our stomach."

It was enough to make me chuckle, and I'm pretty sure my face shows amusement. He laughs at what he said too. It was true though, it really wasn't just about the butterflies in our stomach. Once our laughter subsides, we stand there in silence for the seventh time that night.

"So, who's the lucky person?" I ask, the smile on my face faltering.

He didn't reply. I wasn't expecting him to, anyway. I breathe out, removing my hands from my pockets to rub them together. I rub my clothed arms next, in a poor attempt to get rid of the goose bumps that were formed from the cold.

"You're my best friend, Lovino." He says, and I look at him, locking gazes with him. He's got that strange look on his face again. "You're my best friend, okay? I don't want for our relationship to end. I don't want you to hate me. You're special to me, Lovi, very much so."

I stare at him. He stares back at me. I smile faintly, because I understand what he's trying to tell me. He looks surprised when I did however, and I try not to chuckle. He's adorable. I look away, moving closer to him so our shoulders were almost touching. I feel his eyes on me, and I lean ever so slightly towards him.

"You don't have to worry about all that, Toni." I say quietly, but it's loud enough for him to hear. "I won't hate you. I could never hate you. You're special to me too, yeah? So this," I gesture lamely between us. "This wouldn't end, okay?"

He stays silent.

"You know," I look at him again, a smirk on my face. "I'm in love too."

The back of our hands graze against each other, and we just stand there staring at each other like some idiots we are. I chuckle, and he follows. Soon, we're just two laughing fools under the not so visible stars. The air is light, and I don't mind the cold any longer. Although, it seems like it's not so cold now, and I wonder why. Then it's silent once more between us, our faces sporting wide smiles. I look at him, and he peeks back at me.

"Can we go back inside now?" I ask.

"Yeah," he says and steps even closer to me. Our shoulders were now touching, and I can feel his hand against mine. I could feel a small shudder tracing along my spine. "Okay. We can go."

We go back inside later, swinging our intertwined hands back and forth between us. There's a pause again, but it's content and comfortable unlike the ones before; and I like it.


	2. Familiar Pauses and Rewinds

I THOUGHT I'D GET ACCUSTOMED to the many pauses we've had during our relationship. I was wrong to believe so. There were lots of them, and most were heavy with something that I couldn't place a finger on, and I couldn't take it. I should have been stronger, but I was too weak. It became too much for me to handle. Then, we're here. Inside the bedroom where we'd retire for the night to rest, where we'd sometimes play pillow fight, where we'd sometimes just laze around then stare at each other and laugh at nothing. It's where we created memories; but why had it suddenly also felt too heavy for me?

I tuck my chin on my arms that hugged my knees, which were pressed up to my chest. It's quiet, but the loud banging against my chest is enough to make me go deaf. The bed I've been sitting on dips as another weight joins me, although he's sitting as far as he could from me. He's sitting far away as if he's avoiding me, as if I'd lash out at him any time, as if he's afraid of me. At the same time, he's sitting near me as if he wants to reach out to me, as if he wants to touch me, as if he's longing for me. It's confusing. I don't complain whether I think he's too far or too near; I just don't see the point in doing so.

"I'm sorry." Antonio says.

His words echo throughout the room. They echo throughout my chest and my mind. I want to be mad at him but I can't. I want to scream at him but I can't. I want to leave him right here and never talk to him again, but I can't bring myself to do it. I can't bring myself to do anything at all. I'm awfully tired, although I hadn't done much earlier today. I don't understand this. I don't understand myself. I don't understand everything anymore.

I didn't utter a word, and he seems to accept my silence. I heave a shaky sigh, closing my aching eyes and hoping it would all just vanish, hoping this is all just a terrible dream. Alas, this is reality I'm talking about, and none could ever escape from it.

"I don't blame you." I say because it isn't his fault after all. I deem that it was bound to happen and that I should just accept it; that we should just accept it so we wouldn't hurt ourselves furthermore.

"I don't blame you," I repeat, trying to get it in his head. " . . .really. I don't. It wasn't as if you could control it or something. I mean, I understand but at the same time I don't—you getting my point, Toni?"

I chuckle then I open my eyes to peek at him. I find him already looking at me, his eyes boring into mine. I suddenly feel conscious about myself then, though I don't look away. His eyes speak a million words. His eyes convey his emotions in a lot more ways than a hundred. I wonder if my own conveys emotions too. I feel like bursting from all the emotions; his and mine combined. But I didn't, however. Not yet, I suppose. Then, he averts his eyes from me.

"I'm sorry, Lovino." He says to me again, and I sigh. I'm about to speak when he cuts me off, his voice unstable. "I thought that was it. I thought it's—I thought I'm able to distinguish whether I'm in love in a romantic way or—or. . . I'm really sorry, Lovino. I love you though; I really do. I promise I do, but I'm so confused and I'm really wrong and it's just messing with my head and I can't—I can't deal. . . I don't know, Lovino. I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry."

He sobs and it hurts me. Watching him cry clenches my heart like something is trying to squeeze all the blood out of it. I want to reach out to him, but it's like something has been weighing me down, and all I could do is just sit there. I'm not submitting to it, however, as I push myself up and scoot closer to him, leaning until my forehead touches his shoulder. It's a way to comfort him somehow. His shoulder shakes as he sobs, and I tolerate it even if it's kind of annoying. I purse my lips, my throat constricting and leaving me almost gasping for air. My eyes start to water, but I blink them away.

"You don't have to worry." I say, barely audible. I know that he heard it nonetheless. He continues crying and I hesitantly raise a hand to rub his back. Goose bumps scatter along my skin as I did, warmth spreading in my insides just like they always did even before. "It wasn't—it isn't your fault—"

"I know!" he snaps. The hand I've been using to rub his back flinches, and I retract it from him. He doesn't complain about it. "But it's still my fault! It's my fault for leading you on. It's my fault for being wrong about this. It's my fault that I don't know what it feels like. It's my fault that we're drifting away. I didn't mean for it to end like this."

He sniffles and it's all quiet again.

I move away from him only to shuffle beside him. I didn't look at him though; I don't think I have the guts to do so. My body protests otherwise. I stare at the brown bedroom door made from wood, heaving a shaky sigh. We don't speak, and I presume that we're just beyond tired. Maybe we just don't have anything to say any more, or maybe we just need comfort from other things, like what the silence has been providing us. I reckon it's all of the three.

"So," I begin, still refusing to look at him. "We're unhappy now, aren't we?"

He nods quietly.

"And we're ending this now, right? I think, since it's for the better." I'm surprised that my voice hasn't shaken yet from all the emotions that are threatening to flow. I hold out for a little longer. He nods again. "Yeah, okay. I'm just confirming."

Another pause passes.

I speak up. "Hey, remember the time when I told you I want to go to Italy with you?"

"Yeah," says he. "I still do."

"I still want to, to be honest."

And it'll be a dream never reached. Like a star that is a million light-years away from here. Like a star that is never meant to be touched. His phone starts buzzing in his hand and he checks it. He breathes out, and it's like a laugh that suddenly rushed out of his mouth. I push down the bitter feeling that starts to crawl up to my chest. He wipes away the remaining tears on his face after he closes his phone, and he seems to waver when he notices I'm still here.

"You got somewhere to go to?" I ask, genuinely curious.

"I—uh, yeah, I do. Francis reminded me through text." He replies with a slight stutter. I wonder for a moment if he hesitated because he doesn't want to hurt me further. I clench my fists to stop myself from thinking more.

"Okay." I look at him. His pretty green eyes are looking back at me. "You can go. I'm fine here by myself."

"Are you sure?" he looks concerned. I convince myself that he's not allowed to, though I didn't mention it to him. I nod, and he stands up when I did. "I guess I'll get going."

He walks away rather slowly, then he turns back to me when he reaches the door and his gaze locks with mine. My heart pounds against my chest. His eyes are sorrowful and regretful.

"I suppose this is really it then." I dumbly declare because I still can't believe this is all happening.

His eyes look away from mine, "Yeah." Then he's out the door.

Only at the sound of the apartment door opening and closing have the tears flow freely down my face. Only then I started to weep at all the memories we created in this very bedroom, in this very apartment. I weep at all the things that remind me of him. I weep because of him. I weep because I've been a coward and weak. I weep because it's all too much. My sobs echo throughout the seemingly empty bedroom and it hurts so much.

I had genuinely thought that in the middle of our confrontation, I'd begin to accept it. Accept that he doesn't reciprocate my feelings for him, accept that it's a mistake that had started a year and eight months prior. I had proved myself wrong now that I'm bawling in this stupid room and stupid bed. I didn't want to cry, but maybe I've reached my limit and they just poured out like water from a tap. Perhaps there's nothing that could ever prepare me for this heartache.

My heart longs for him and wants him back. But he could no longer be mine. And everywhere I look in the room, I can only see him smiling at me.

The warmth left and the room suddenly became cold. I despise it.


	3. And They Linger

IT'S BEEN A FACT THAT events in life are surprising, even when you expect it or not. I know that fact and I hate it. There are some events that I'm not entirely prepared for that were suddenly shoved into my face, and then I wouldn't know how to act nor even think. It isn't an ideal situation at all. I wish it doesn't happen to me for almost all the time. Unfortunately, it does; an example would be right now.

The quiet, muffled music still can be heard even after crossing the street to somehow find a quieter place, but not too far from the party. How I ended up agreeing to go to a party, I don't know; although deep inside my mind, I blame my brother for bringing it up and dragging me. Now here I am, under the white light of the streetlight along with the yellow light provided by the moon. It feels like a déjà vu somehow, standing here with a cold breeze gently passing by and thinking what to say to the man beside me. Something lodges up my throat for maybe the fifth time today.

"What do you want to talk about?" I say, and I could swear I also said the same thing before. I try to swallow the something that settled in my throat. He stays quiet just like before. I gather the courage to speak up again, "It's a cold night. How are you holding up wearing those?"

'How are you holding up without me?' my mind supplies, and I immediately dispersed the thought away. I shouldn't think about that right now.

"I got used to it," he says. I look over at him. He's looking at the gigantic house across the street where the party was held; where we met again after months of no contact. It's awkward, and I hope it wasn't just me feeling it. I hope he does too.

"It's weird looking at you now," I see his eyes shift over to me. I look away with a tightening chest. "I mean, you never wear light clothes in a cold weather before and it's new to me."

"And you haven't changed."

Tears well up in my eyes, and I blink those away. I look up at the yellow moon. Whether he's talking about my choice of clothing in this kind of weather or just me in general, I don't know, but it certainly did something to squeeze the life out of my heart. It hurts. I take a deep breathe to calm myself down and cleared my throat.

"How do you say so?" my voice sounded pretty weak, and I just hope he won't address it.

"You're still…" he stops and I wonder what's up with that. "You're still you, I guess. The same old Lovino I knew."

I want to disagree with him, but my mind betrays me. I couldn't think of what to say to him, so I settled with a quiet hum that I'm not sure whether he heard it or not. I think he did. We welcome the silence that envelopes us, paying attention instead to the somewhat humming music that came from the house across the street.

"How are you?"

I want to say that I'm not fine, that I'm feeling conflicted with him here, that I still need more time to move on to get the most appropriate closure I can get. I want to say that I haven't been the same ever since, and that I'm still getting back on my feet after that, but then he came and made me feel things that I've desperately trying to get rid of again. I want to say that I don't want to see him yet; I can't, not right now. I didn't say anything similar to that. I lied instead.

"I've been fine," I reply. "Just like you said, I'm still the same. Nothing much has changed."

A beat passes.

"How about you; how have you been, Toni?"

I notice him crossing his arms, tensing just slightly; I don't know if it's from the cold or from my question. Then he replies: "It was a hard year without you."

I hate his reply. I pull at the sleeves of my jacket and clench my fists. I wish he didn't say that. I wish I didn't hear that. I wish I hadn't looked at him when he said that, seeing that stupid, familiar look on his stupid face again. It was a hard year for me too, trying to get his stupid face and the memories off my mind. And, dare I say, it was also hard trying to list the things that I might've done wrong. I recall the time where I hadn't gone out my bedroom for a week, spending my time there crying or just staring at the ceiling while thoughts ran about in my head, and I was the fool who succumbed to them, not until Feliciano and Nonno thought that it was enough. It was a rough experience.

I don't want to go through that again.

"Please don't look at me like that." I whisper, watching as his face contorts into confusion before he got what I was implying, then he directed that look at me again. I fucking hate him so much.

"I can't stop, Lovino," he whispers back. I hate him. "I can't stop loving you."

"Stop this, Toni."

"Why do you want me to stop?"

He reaches out and caresses my cheek, and only then I had realized that I'm crying. His hand, although cold, warms up my inside like it had before, and the unwanted feelings I had for him started to resurface in my chest. I had feared this. I move away from him, shaking my head and wiping my tears. This has to stop.

"Why are you doing this?" I ask, because I honestly don't know why he decided to do this to me. He takes a step forward, but I stepped back. He seems to get that I don't want him near me. "Antonio, answer me. Please."

"I want us back." He says. "When I told you that it's been hard without you, it's true. I can't—I didn't know what to do. Without you at the apartment, it was all so strange. I—I missed you, Lovino. I want you back. I want you in my arms again, I want to see you happy because of me again, I want you to be with me again, I want—I want you to love me again. Because this time, I'll love you with all my heart. I still love you, Lovino, and I don't want us to fall apart like it did before."

I shake my head. As much as I want to be with him, I can't do it. I don't want to get back with him when I spent an entire year trying to forget him. It would be a stupid decision; a really, really stupid one. My heart wants to be stupid.

"But what if it doesn't work out again?" I ask him. My voice sounded unsteady. "What if it's not love what you're feeling, Toni? What if you're just missing me because I've been with you for years and you've unconsciously became dependent on me?"

"What if it worked out this time?" says Antonio, reaching out for me. "Just give me a chance, Lovi, I'll—I love you, okay? I promise that I'm not bluffing."

There is now a fine, cold drizzle falling, and the wind has risen from its uncertain puffs into a steady blow. I tuck myself further in my jacket, although it didn't actually help that much since we went out into the cold night earlier. I watch as a couple stumbled out of the house opposite from us, laughing and kissing and touching each other as if the other will go away if neither did.

We were like that once upon a time.

They walk away, and I still hear their laugh despite the equally loud speakers booming from the inside. My heart aches for what seems to be the millionth time that day.

We could be like that again.

"Antonio, I really can't. I'm—" not ready? I'm too weak? I'm afraid to be hurt again? I don't know what to answer him, but I definitely want to say all of those to him.

"I'm sorry." He says, and it was the exact same thing he said that echoed throughout the room we once shared. It was the exact same thing he said that had echoed throughout my chest and my mind. I wish everything was easy, but it would never be like that, and I understand. "Just say no, and I'll give you the space you want to move on. I'm sorry we met like this, and then have the nerve to say all this shit to you when you're not even ready to meet me yet."

He pauses. The shared memories we had all came back to me so sudden that it almost knocked me off balance, but I managed to catch myself at the last minute. He didn't seem to notice at all. He never does. I close my eyes and think. It was also hard to think when there are a lot of things in my mind. The wind blows gently against my face, and some of the stray strands of my hair sway with it. Then there's warmth, and I softly gasp as I open my eyes, looking at Antonio as he tucked the stray strands behind my ear, where it originally belonged.

My mind blanked and all I could hear suddenly is the chants of 'accept him' over and over again.

I dumbly follow what they said, and now I'm engulfed with the familiar warmth I've yearned for a long time. It's embarrassing how submissive I become when it comes to him.

* * *

I stop from where I'm standing, the surroundings suddenly freezing and there's a string of silence that seemed to mock me. My company continues to walk, but I didn't see him turn around to look for me when I'm pretty occupied with the scene I'm witnessing only just a few feet apart from where I stood.

I see Antonio share a laugh and a kiss with someone I don't know, and there's the familiar clench of my heart but it felt numb. I wish that this is all a dream and I wake up just before the party I'm forced to go to then I wouldn't have been so dumb and stupid to believe that all would work out just like it was 'supposed' to.

I didn't wake up from a bad dream, but rather to a reality I should've opened my eyes to.

We weren't meant to be and it was only a hopeless love on my part.

"Hey, Vino," Alfred calls out to me which pulls me out of my inner breakdown. I acknowledge him as he jogs back to me. "You okay, dude? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"I'm fine, let's just—let's just go."

I walk away and prepares myself for what is about to happen later. My thoughts went wild as I take every step, and I'm unable to think properly anymore. Alfred and I are embraced by the unwelcome silence, laughing at me quietly. And it lingers until I got home, until Antonio got home, until I leave the apartment we shared and as I step out into a cold night.


End file.
